October 28, 2010

Practically Famous

Funniest thing happened while shopping. Little old German lady could not find the vinegar and was wandering a bit aimlessly in an attempt to find it. The second time our paths crossed, I realized she needed a rescue. Operation vinegar began by me blockading an employee and pinning her down for the location of the product. "Where lives vinegars??" I asked. The destination: the furthest possible opposite corner of the store of course.

Old lady sets her basket down on the floor in defeat, it's clearly too far for her to backtrack. I'm wondering why nobody helps her shop. I insist it's not a problem for me to fetch it. I ask her specifically "what kind" she's after and she replies with "normal." The entire time I'm in route I'm wondering what kind of vinegar is "normal" to a German senior citizen.

I reach the target. There are only two types to choose from. Normal clear, and brown cider. I grab a bottle of the clear and boogie back to the damsel in distress. Within 10 meters of her she starts shaking her head and declares that "it's the wrong vinegar." I explain that this was the lesser of two evils. She's skeptical but in the best possible manners she declares that she'll "find a way to use it anyhow!"

After wishing one another a good weekend, we part ways and head to the cashiers. I've got my heaped cart full of Halloween-party snacks laid out on the belt. All the Germans behind me with their 3-4 daily purchased items are cursing their bad luck to get stuck behind the gluttonous American.

Suddenly across the registers I hear the old gal reporting to other customers that the "American girl" helped her find the vinegar. (And can I just note that I love when you are nearing age 100 that any woman under the age of 40 is still a "girl.")

I look up and she's talking with a man I recognize. We smile and I say, "hello, we know each other." And he says, "Yes from the flea market. You're the American who is very impressed with old German stuff!" I agree heartily. My friend of vinegar says that "Sebastian knows everybody." Then another woman who I've never seen before says " no, no - everybody knows the American!"

I can't believe my ears! I'm famous. And too bad I figured it out when I'm wearing my shredded rockstar jeans and have hurricane hair. And oopsie not a stitch of makeup. This is honest to goodness what I looked like among the proper lovely Germans this morning. (Sorry to give you another dose of the Photo Booth shots, but I totally love this thing. I could play fashion model in front of it for hours!! Although it's hard to do full-body shots. Must practice but I promise I'll stop for now...)

hey amerikanisches Mädchen, how is it possible to look so beautiful without make-up?! And me too, I adore your writing style. It feels like sitting next to you over a cup of coffe and listening to your hilariuos adventures that come with being thrown into a different culture and laughing our hearts out. Love it!

Hi Cliff, thanks for taking the time to visit and comment. I have no idea how big Ochsenfurt is... will have to ask the German hub to see if he knows the population. It's a suburb of Wuerzburg which is bigger but still a pretty "small" town compared to Nuremburg, Munich, Dresden, or Berlin!

I just did a post on our little town if you'd like more photos! Thanks again for taking the time to stop by: